


But It Was Not Your Fault

by orphan_account



Series: Little Lion Man [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, DadSchlatt, DreamSMP - Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Songfic, Yelling, i still have no idea how tagging works, time for everyone to start spiraling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "With each passing day, as the country he was supposed to care for slipped further and further away from his grasp, the weeds in his chest grew stronger. Their destination was his heart and Schlatt knew that once they took root there, they would be the end of him. And once he was gone, the twisting weeds would leave him a hollow husk.They would destroy him and then everyone else."
Series: Little Lion Man [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094102
Kudos: 57





	But It Was Not Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> please note !! this takes place during a variation of the festival, all "canon" connections are out the window.  
> also, cw for violence at the end

"I want a festival."

"Schlatt that's... Okay, you know that's a terrible idea."

Schlatt let out a groan as he fell forward, his head hitting the wood of his desk with a thud, "I don't care, just let me have the a stupid festival."

Footsteps moved around the room and Schlatt turned his head to watch as Quackity moved, "Man, you just- Wilbur is already at our front door. He'll take this as an opportunity to walk through into the house."

Schlatt blindly reached around his desk, fingers reaching around a pen that he threw at Quackity. It missed, hitting the wall instead of its target, but Schlatt could feel the glare Quackity shot his way.

"God damn, do you ever shut the fuck up?"

Quackity just stared at him, eye twitching as he tried to stay composed, "Schlatt, I'm trying so hard not to punch right now. Your public image is already fucking dogshit, you need to keep a low profile."

Schlatt paused, brain struggling to come up with some kind of counter. He knew he was being difficult, knew that Quackity was justified in saying that he needed to keep on the downlow. That if he stepped outside the White House he would have several weapons pointed at his throat. Staying inside was the safer option, perhaps for everyone involved.

But there was something twisted in his chest. Something dark and ugly that had taken root in the depths of his ribs. They were weeds, growing angrily and fast. Wrapping around his lungs and making it hard to breath. He was waking in the late hours of the night because suddenly, the air was far too thin. He would grab a bottle with shaking hands and try and down the weeds.

With each passing day, as the country he was supposed to care for slipped further and further away from his grasp, the weeds in his chest grew stronger. Their destination was his heart and Schlatt knew that once they took root there, they would be the end of him. And once he was gone, the twisting weeds would leave him a hollow husk. 

They would destroy him and then everyone else.

Schlatt couldn't allow that. He knew that he was too far gone, no one could pull the weeds out from his chest. But perhaps, he could keep the twisting weeds from taking root in others. Slowly, Schlatt lifted his head off his desk, staring at Quackity with cold eyes as he rose to his feet. Quackity didn't move back when Schlatt stepped closer to him, but Schlatt saw how his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

"We're doing the festival, Quackity," Schlatt didn't hide the venom in his voice, wanting it to seep into Quackity's skin and poison his blood, "And unless you want to join Wilbur in exile, you won't be sayin' shit about it."

Quackity wanted to argue, Schlatt could see it in his eyes. But he didn't, just continued to glare as his body went stiff as a board, "Yes, Mr. President."

Schlatt felt sick to his stomach when Quackity said those words. He swallowed thickly, head spinning as he struggled to stay on his feet. He turned away from Quackity, needing to leave the room as the weeds started clawing at his throat. He was at the door, hand gripping the handle with white knuckles as he paused.

"You said it yourself, my public image is dogshit. Why not try and actually fix that?"

Schlatt didn't wait for an answer, just throwing open the door and walking towards his room. He needed to drown the weeds.

________

The next day was spent spreading the word about the festival. Or rather, it was supposed to. Instead, Schlatt woke up and couldn't get out of bed. His head pounded and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn't know how long he lay in his bed, only that it must have been for a while since Quackity seemed pissed when he burst into the room. 

Schlatt didn't look at the other man, eyes locked on the ceiling. Quackity didn't say anything, but Schlatt could feel the anger rolling in waves from him. The anger was boiling, making Schlatt's skin itch and his lungs burn. He wondered if Quackity was even going to say anything, or just see the state he was in and then leave him to rot. 

Schlatt wished he would. It would be easier for everyone.

"Are you going to get up?" Quackity's voice was low, as if he was trying to stop himself from shouting, "Or are you just expecting me to do everything."

Schlatt didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. It was just so much easier to stay silent. The weeds in his chest wrapped around his lungs, making him struggle to keep his breath steady. Quackity's anger only grew with each second Schlatt didn't say anything. That anger was like sunlight for the weeds, making them grow stronger and quicker.

"You're unbelievable, Schlatt. This was your whole idea, and now you won't even get out of bed-"

"I can't fucking move," Schlatt spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes moving from the ceiling to glare knives at Quackity, "And you're not making it any easier."

Quackity frowned, eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms, his anger faltering, "Why not?"

Schlatt considered lying. Saying that he didn't know why, that this was a new installment and had never happened before. But the thought of lying made him choke on the weeds, as if they were forcing the truth out of him.

"I was drinking again..."

The anger didn't necessarily return, rather it was replaced with a knowing disappointment. Quackity just huffed and rolled his eyes, "Of course, of fucking course you were. You have a country to run and you spend all your time just drinking."

"Don't start that."

"Start what?"

"Don’t start acting like you're so much better, you're not."

Quackity laughed, though Schlatt could almost roll his eyes at how fake it was, "You've got to kidding me."

Schlatt did end up rolling his eyes, shutting them when his stomach flipped and he worried he would end up emptying his stomach onto the floor. He heard Quackity moving around the room, kicking around a few of the bottles that were strewn around the room. Schlatt exhaled, taking in as much air as he could as the weed's grips around his lungs loosened. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, determined to try and get some feeling back into his body. Though, seeing the face of Quackity still in the room put him back into a sour mood.

"Why the fuck are you still here?" Quackity just looked exasperated as Schlatt continued to speak, "Start telling people about the stupid festival."

"Stupid, you- Fine. Fucking fine, Schlatt. You're not going to help?" Schlatt didn't answer, just stared up at the ceiling as Quackity moved to the door of the room, "Why did I even ask, of course you're not. You never do."

Schlatt tried not to pretend that Quackity's word didn't hurt. Tried to let the weeds take the words in order to grow. But the words were only taken, not the feelings that they left Schlatt feeling. Quackity slammed the door shut, leaving Schlatt alone in the mess that was his room. 

Though Quackity may have left, his anger stayed to suffocate Schlatt.

________

Schlatt was nervous. His head buzzing as he gently hit the side of his leg. His hand was shaking as he lifted a bottle of alcohol to his lips, the liquid burning his throat and keeping the weeds at bay. He looked out at the small crowd that had gathered in front of the stage, the pressure of this festival needing to go well suddenly hitting him. He didn't need to say much, just give the people a basic rundown of what the festival would entail. Nothing major, he could handle this.

Right? His doubt was growing quicker and quicker.

He placed the bottle on one of the nearby tables, letting his hands drop to his side as his mind started to narrow in on itself, shutting out the world. His weak attempt to make talking to the people who his public image depended on more manageable. Only seconds left until he needed to be up on that stage. He turned towards the stage, moving forward towards the stairs with lead like legs.

"Schlatt! Wait!"

Schlatt fully stopped his movement. Turning his body away from the stage and to Tubbo, who had come out of nowhere. The boy had a large smile on his face when he stopped in front of Schlatt, who only raised an eyebrow at him. Schlatt glanced down at Tubbo's hands, which were holding pieces of loose paper.

"Make this quick kid, I should've been up there three minutes ago."

Tubbo nodded, "Okay, okay. So, I know it might be too late, and I'm really sorry about that. But I've been working on a speech? And I think it's actually pretty good, and I'm wondering if I could maybe... perform it? Is that the right word? I don't think it is but-"

Schlatt raised a hand, effectively stopping Tubbo's ramblings, "Is the speech a welcome speech? Like an opener?" Tubbo nodded, and Schlatt smiled, "Then I have no problem with that. Beats what I had planned to say."

Schlatt placed a hand on Tubbo's back, guiding him up the stairs to the stage. Tubbo's grip on his script tightened when he saw the crowd, "Wait, what were you going to say?"

Schlatt laughed as he took his place to the side of the stage, in view of everyone but clearly not the focus, "Fuck if I know, was just gonna make shit up. Okay, go get 'em Tubbo."

Schlatt watched as Tubbo swallowed hard and moved to the microphone at the center of the stage. His hands were shaking as he tapped the mic, slowly leaning forward, "H- Hello? Can everyone hear me?" Schlatt turned to the crowd, watching as everyone nodded their head or murmured a quiet 'yeah'. Tubbo let out a breathy laugh, "Good to see, uh see that you could all make it."

The audience didn't react, just looked up at Tubbo with empty stares. Schlatt cast a glance towards the kid, feeling bad when he saw that Tubbo seemed to be struggling with how the audience didn't seem to care about what he had to say.

Struggling already and he hadn't even been speaking for more than ten seconds.

Tubbo took a deep breath, straightening his posture, "I know that these past weeks have been hard. We entered a new stage of our nation that most of us never considered. But that doesn't mean this new nation has to be something we hate without giving it a chance. We..." Tubbo paused, and Schlatt could see him thinking carefully about what he was going to say next, "We are now a free nation. Truly free. We can now choose how we want to live. We don't need to look to one person anymore... Now, we can look to ourselves. So, with that being said, I want to thank you all for coming to this wonderful event. Let the festival begin."

The audience started to clap, either out of obligation or because they liked what Tubbo said, Schlatt didn’t know. But that didn’t stop him from joining in on the applause and muttering under his breath, "Good job kid. Couldn't have said it any better."

Tubbo smiled, shifting from foot to foot, clearly not knowing what to do now that he was done talking. Schlatt decided it was now time to save the kid, and he started to move forward, when he noticed movement from the audience. Someone stood up, pushing away other audience members as they stepped closer to the stage. It was perhaps five seconds too late that Schlatt realized it was Technoblade.

It was two seconds too late that Schlatt realized he was holding a crossbow up towards the stage.

The world slowed down as Schlatt watched the bolts in the crossbow leave and sail through the air. There were three bolts, two barely missing Schlatt and exploding into the background of the stage. Schlatt gripped his chest, trying to make sure his heart was still beating. He couldn't hear anything, only the sound of his head buzzing as he looked back into the crowd. Horrified faces stared up at the stage, though when Schlatt searched it for Technoblade's face, he couldn't find him.

It was the screaming that forced Schlatt back into the world.

He whipped his head to the side, eyes going wide as he saw Tubbo drop to his knees, clutching his face as he screamed, a twisted and terrible sound. Schlatt didn't waste any time before he was rushing forward. The crowd was screaming, beginning to run around like chickens who lost their heads. 

Tubbo was on the ground, his entire body shaking as he continued to scream. Tubbo was suddenly so much smaller as Schlatt gathered him up. He tried to get a look at the damage that the bolts did, but Tubbo wouldn't remove his hands. Schlatt was panicking, a cry for help getting caught in his throat. Despite not being able to the majority of Tubbo's face, Schlatt could clearly see as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Confusion mixed into his panic as the ground began to rumble. Schlatt's eyes went wide as he realized what it meant. Any fear that he might've had for himself was gone, replaced with the fear that Tubbo was going to be taken from him.

Schlatt held Tubbo as close as he could, trying to protect him as the world behind them exploded into ruin.

**Author's Note:**

> im enjoying writing this, hope you liked reading it  
> comments and kudos appreciated :)


End file.
